The gist of it all, was the Internet not working. I didn’t even want to go online, but there was this nagging feeling that kept winding me up. It had to be fixed.

I call tech support, only to spend about 20 minutes getting into Network Neighborhood. The phone cord couldn’t physically reach the computer, so that was one rather strained conversation we had.¹. Apparently everything was in perfect working order. Well… aside the fact that I couldn’t actually log on to the Internet.

The highlight of it all came, when I was asked to remove the Ethernet cable from the router and plug it directly into the computer. I spent a good 5 minutes staring blankly at the two wardrobes I’d have had to shift for said action. Then I remembered that dad had a laptop… … where Firefox kept freezing. On the bright side, the tech support seemed to be an Internet Explorer fan. WAIT: did I actually say bright side?!

Ironically enough, the guy ended up cutting the phone line² at the end. Hm… that might have been intentional, for all I know…

Lesson learned: there’s a reason why getting a human assisted tech support takes around a minute. You’re supposed to keep refreshing your browser till the problem magically solves itself.

Note: This post has been spawned thanks to Jade’s demand of me starting to earn my place in her Opera Speed Dial page. Don’t you DARE remove me!!!!!

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¹ The phone cord was not long enough, and carrying a desktop computer to the phone was really not worth the effort.
² The phone is linked to the modem, so if you reset the latter… *makes cut throat move*

First I get some serious cramps from my period. Dry-heaving can be so much fun at work… Next, I (once again) forget that my arm is much too sensitive to stand any type of draught, so my right arm starts hurting like hell. But then I suddenly decide that I’m going to evolve and jump headfirst into… things. Either that, or my arm pain made me delirious.

Me: It hurts, therefore I demand sympathy.
Dad: It’s your own fault, really. I told you to take care.
Me: I still demand sympathy.
Dad: Fine… I know it hurts a lot.
Me:… and you know the best part? I’m having a tooth extraction tomorrow.
Dad: You can always call the doctor and tell her you can’t make it.
Me: But the bad tooth is on the other side.
Dad: I see. This is like the part where the doctor tells you to eat on the other side. So you cross the street and eat there.
Me: EXACTLY!

How do you react to pain?
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¹ … such as grabbing onto the door, when I’m being forcefully dragged to the dentist.

Despite having a very good memory, I hate to remember things. It’s such a stress: I sometimes fantasize about forgetting my work computer’s password, needing to go at the sys-admin and ask for it to be reset. Oh the humiliation!

This is why I hate signing up for anything. Needless to say: I often end up signing up for stuff anyway. Such as to an online IT shop, to order a birthday present for a work colleague.

Imagine my pleasant surprise, when right below the large red “Buy now” button, there are two phone numbers I could order from. So I call, and even though it was past 8pm someone does pick up and doesn’t tell me they’re closed for the day. I’m starting to have faith again… or am I too hasty?

Vera: Hi! Is this onlineshop?
Sales guy: Yes, good evening. How may I help you?
Vera: I’d like to buy product xyz please. Could you also tell me if it’s possible to get it by Friday? I live in city name.
Sales guy: Oh yes, we should get it by Friday, don’t worry. Have you placed an order online yet?
Vera: Um no… but I thought I could do it by phone too. I don’t much like to sign up for anything.
Sales guy: yeah… I’ll never understand why people want to order stuff online. Maybe when we’ll be a more civilized country things’ll change.
Vera:
Sales guy: well bye, we’ll be expecting your online order.

*CLICK*

I could only stare at the phone. Was I actually mocked because I followed the instructions on their site?! I so wish I had had the courage to smugly point out that I develop sites like the one he so smugly uses, on a daily basis

And the best part: I receive a text message the next day (after placing the order online), that the product was out of stock so my order was canceled. Such professionalism, I think I might just faint from the ecstasy of it all.

Do pseudo tech guys act all high and mighty elsewhere too?

Sometimes I truly wish I had a device which could record my thoughts. Especially while at the dentist. I’d certainly never run out of blogging material.

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!! Feel my pain!

Ok no… you don’t REALLY need to feel it … especially since you’re near a deadline… again… but WAAAAAAAAH!

No. No! NOOOOOOOO! I’m going to kill youuuuuuuuuu! Sadist woman!

Er… SCRATCH THAT! Having the dentist faint while that bloody THING is in my mouth: Just no!

I don’t appreciate sarcasm… or pity… or anything really, right now. So FUCK YOU!

OK, let’s back-pedal there a bit: I DID NOT JUST THINK THAT!

OW! I said thought OW!!

Amazingly enough, at the end of each torture session I manage to very sincerely thank her and make another appointment. I’m a constant source of surprise, even to myself.

So… how do you like your dentist?

My most recent ‘master piece’ was the onigiri below:

Now the only thing left, is that shop assistants somehow realize that they DO actually sell that stuff. Maybe I should just smash their head into a box full of nori next time

Me: Hi, I’ve been told I can find here toasted seaweed… also called nori?
Shop assistant: Um really? I doubt it… I mean… seaweed. What does it look like?
Me: I’m not sure. I haven’t seen the package.
Shop assistant: Well how could I possibly know then?
Me: um… sorry…?
Shop assistant: I don’t even work in this section!

Vera backs away meekly, only to bump into a shelf full of … NORI! After briefly considering the merits of gloating, Vera just grabs two packages and high-tails towards the cash register.

Next time I should just ask for TNT. They’ll probably be happier about it.

I remember I had a classmate in freshman year in university, whose sexuality was rather debatable. Said classmate dressed like a girl (tight jeans, sweater and high heeled pointed boots), but had some rather rough facial features which one would have been hard-pressed to attribute to girls. After having seen his name one day, it turned out the classmate was indeed a guy.

I’m not entirely sure why, but just the thought of sitting near him made goosebumps appear on my skin. Now, when I think back, I’m mightily ashamed of it. After all, he was never loud, never swore, was always very polite. Aside this, one of my current best friends has a different sexual orientation to mine¹.

As such, it came as a rather large and unpleasant surprise when today my aunt declared that I am rather intolerant. I found T. very rude (and childish) for calling me lame for having a blog. I take it for granted that when I’m told off for talking too loudly, I apologize and am quieter. I most definitely do not recommend ear plugs instead.

I was annoyed that they didn’t get this. I found it normal not to be willing to associate with them on personal level. I found it preposterous when it was suggested I take up smoking just so I could fit in. On the other hand, I think it mightily unfair that they do their best to ignore me, unless talking to me is absolutely necessary.
I still think my principles aren’t worth the compromise… and I still find it painful that I’m constantly alone because of this.

Why can’t they think objectively? Why can’t I accept that not everyone’s common sense is the same as mine?

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¹ No Kate, I don’t mean you

For some reason, this seems to be the height of coolness, especially among insulted webmasters. Got a review/criticism that you didn’t like? Devote at least one paragraph explaining that you don’t actually care. If that doesn’t teach those lifeless idiots¹, nothing will.

I’m not sure what your reaction is when you don’t care about something: I - for one - either shrug, or give a monosyllabic answer. Not so much our insulted webmasters/webmistresses, who will generally devote at least one mean comment about the criticizer’s presumed shortcomings², if not an entire blog entry.

If we all subscribed to this supposedly healthy approach to the Interwebz, we’d be all pretty apathetic, you know. Just blogging out of obligation, constantly apologizing for lack of updates… oh wait: that’s EXACTLY what you do.

Just think, every time you update your site, be it a new layout, tutorial, blog post, or even profess your love for cute dinosaur patterns³ you do it because you think it will add to your blog’s likability. Unless of course you get some sort of kick from making your site uglier and uglier. So, I’m afraid you’ll have to accept the harsh truth:

YOU. LIKE. YOUR. SITE.

I know, I know: it’s terrible. How will you ever survive such a shameful admission… provided you DO actually admit to it, of course? There’s of course the “sensible” thing: immediately distance yourself from the computer (YES, RIGHT NOW!). Or… you could just embrace this trait of your personality and fix your site. Dilemmas, dilemmas, dilemmas…

Now if you’ll excuse I’m off to change layout, because my extreme uncaring attitude towards Perfection Design Gallery has been bugging me… for the last half of a year. Like I said: totally not caring about it.

What don’t YOU care about?

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¹ because obviously whenever you vocalize your dislike of a website you’re in dire need of outside activity.
² i.e. big fat lazy bitch.
³ HIIIII Rachael!!!!

Vera is bemoaning the fact that her computer would not start up.

Colleague 1: Why not take that laptop in the meanwhile?
Me: I can’t! A would roast me alive, just look at what he does to B, when he so much as looks at his tool.
Colleague 2: B, stop looking at A’s tool¹.
Me:

Rest of the colleagues died of laughter.

What are the side effects of your job… or regular activities?

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¹ for those of you who don’t know, tool is slang for penis.

My company decided to give its female employees a wonderful Women’s Day gift: a Gift Card to a fancy spa. This has kept me giddy most of the week, expecting some sort of miracle. Seeing that my figure is not exactly what one would call ideal, I did have a few misgivings, especially as a coworker had gone before me and got a man masseur; still a gift’s a gift, and I wasn’t about to let it go to waste. My mom, of course, had to try to dampen my good mood, right before I left:

Mom: Can’t you choose something other than that massage?
Me: I can… but I don’t want to.
Mom: Well… you can always refuse the massage part.
Me: WHAT?! It’s the spa of a 5-star hotel. Why would I want to refuse a massage?!
Mom: But it’s so intimate! I wouldn’t want to do that.
Me: I’m going for a massage… not for sex!

I obviously didn’t refuse the massage, however I was slightly disappointed. Unlike the heroines in my chiklit novels, I didn’t experience any kind of ecstatic feelings. It was good and relaxing (aside the part when I thought she - I got a woman masseuse - would tear off my right arm).

Any of you gone for a massage? If I ever decide to go again, what would you recommend I try?

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¹ for those you not keeping up with my various moans: a week ago, my PC suddenly slowed down and froze on me:, refusing to boot again, when I hit reset.

So obviously, I needed roughly two weeks to prepare myself, only to almost forget about it and startle Beth with my sudden ending of our IM conversation²… all this to merely subscribe.

Yesterday was my first class, after which it was painfully clear that the little physical condition I had ever possessed was long gone. I’m pathetic, really: they made us lift our legs high and mine were literally screeching in protest after 10 (out of 50) tries. The end of the class literally had me wobble into the changing room, only to wobble out and into the nearest store to buy some mineral water. Apparently my legs weren’t the only wobbly body parts, as I ‘neatly‘ dropped the change into the cashier’s booth³.

Deciding that for once in my life, I should keep my mom’s advice in mind, I immediately took an aspirin when I got home (I live 7 minutes walking distance from the gym)… followed by another one because I didn’t feel the taste of the first one.

The aspirins had one Hell of an effect, as I only felt a slight pulling in the back of my legs. Suffice to say, that I went in today much more determined to do well. Only to encounter… MY 12^th GRADE GERMAN TEACHER!!one11! I hadn’t seen her since Autumn 2003 (that’s when I started university).
We were sitting side by side and she suddenly turns to me saying

I know you… I can’t remember where from, but I DO know you!

I was not wearing my glasses, so I had to squint at her outline and hazard a very very wild guess:

Me: Were you a German teacher?
Her: YES!
Me: You taught me. I’m Vera.
Her: OH yes!

Considering the rest of my classmates had no interest whatsoever, while I practically inhaled every single word she said… not to mention I was among her first students⁴, I was very glad she remembered. It has been over 4 years since then. I also found out she’s not teaching anymore.

I probably tried harder, most especially since she was right next to me… of course I still barely managed to complete 40% of the exercises. My hand-eye-coordination is … what’s that again?

In conclusion: I’m on my way to becoming a drug addict (another 2 aspirins just got swallowed, this time taste and all)… and I should probably try and fish my watch out of the bottom of my backpack. Hopefully it’s still intact, after having tossed my sweat suit and trainers right on top of it…

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¹ the gym’s closed on Sunday.
² though by now she should be quite used to my airheadedness (yes, that’s a word =P )
³ no, it was not intentional, I had to bend over and fish them out, right afterwards.
⁴ she had finished university the same year we started 12^th grade (2002).